


To You, Ambiguous Speakers

by TokyoTeddyWolf



Series: Time To Rest, Children (DSMP) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon is a coward so im taking a hammer to it, Chapter two is gonna be fun :), Dream Smp, Dream gets BEAT, Excuse me while i try to logic out some shit, Fix-It, Mumza as death, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Wingfic, awesamdad, mama puffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29895018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoTeddyWolf/pseuds/TokyoTeddyWolf
Summary: "Ambiguous speakers, no stand-back to feature?Then who will sweep the leftover ash as leader,Flashed and flared and later?Hey, you sure the feelings we burned,Show a show, classic, this shouldered cast should act by?When I tried overturning the first title the rats, at last, had died..."-Rats Died by Oktavia (cover)Who grieves the ungrievable?Who picks up the pieces of a shattered vase by an earthquake?There's work to be done.(Aka Five Days Tommy Was Dead, and the One Day He Wasn't.)
Relationships: TommyInnit & Kristin Rosales Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Time To Rest, Children (DSMP) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198028
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	1. The Leftover Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~_("One split dream and we’ll make you bleed if you’re caught," they said,_ ~~
> 
> ~~_So I went ahead and blamed it on you instead! Ha-ha!)_ ~~

Day One

* * *

She hates this.  
  
Hates that she can't do anything in the mortal realm, hates that she can only watch with hooded eyes as the madman kills her boy.  
  
He was her favorite, bold and brash, and _so very much_ like her Angel that her breath had caught the day she saw him, moving from the Earth SMP to the Dream realm. She'd known he would be special, he'd burned so brightly the first time he'd walked through, purposeful and confident, a soul like sunlight.  
  
She had seen him twice before, and now this would end his third life.  
  
Perhaps it was for the best, she mused, blinking away tears at the brutality of the death, she could take him to the three souls currently resting in her traveller's nexus, and let him recover.  
  
Maybe she could even keep him with her until Philza's time was up on this SMP, and then Techno's, and sweep all her boys away to a new plane to just... heal. She was fond of Wilbur, and Philza was Techno's Guardian Angel after the two had bonded several lives before this one, so it made sense to adopt them all herself as well.  
  
They had been getting along well with that mixed-child as well, Ranboo. Perhaps she should take him, too. Where Tommy went, Tubbo followed, so she should make sure to shuffle him along with them. He was a sweet child, had been so polite when he first talked with her, and she had sent him back with a pained smile and a headpat.  
  
She stepped into the space between the living and dead, and carefully, oh so gently pulled the stunned soul into her arms. His back hit her chest, and he hardly even struggled, too shocked and processing what had happened to really notice her.  
  
Dream was still over the body, shouting words that were blending together with hysterical _laughter,_ shaking it like a ragdoll and slamming it against the floor.  
  
Kristin made a displeased, angry sound, and slid her hands over Tommy's ears, her wings folding over his soul to protect him from the image of a madman senselessly beating a dead _child._  
  
How broken you are, you wishful thing, thinking yourself a God when you are no more than a tyrant with more power than you know what to do with. Power you let get the better of you. How shameful. How pitiful. Were I a lesser Goddess I would feel sorry for you, but all I feel is regret that you could fall so low.  
  
When you come to my realm, and you _will_ end up there, I don't think I will let you go for a long time, she thinks bitterly, and sweeps Tommy away to where she knows his brother waits.  
  
"I am sorry, little one, that I cannot do more. Go see your brother, you deserve to rest." She murmurs to the boy, giving him a hug, resting her forehead briefly against the back of his head, before gently pushing him through the veil and into the void.  
  
She does her duties, tending to the dead souls of mob and human alike, as no time generally passes in the veil. Outside, yes, though the void has a faster time rate than the world's and would usually mean a few minutes there would be a day or two in the living realms. She hardly kept track, only needing to pull souls through the veil to send them on their way.  
  
She's taking a moment to drink some tea when something _intrudes_ her realm. Black magic, corrupt and seeking, worming through the veil and latching onto something. She hears a wail.  
  
 _Tommy._ No, oh _hell_ no, she had just gotten her boy and now that green wannabe was trying to steal him back! He couldn't have the sunshine kid, she _refused_ to let him hurt Tommy again!  
  
She ran through the veil's winding hallways until she found the slimy thing, pitch black and with a green tint. Her feathers fluffed in agitation and she screamed as she lunged for it.  
  
Getting a good grip on the tendril, she wrestled with the magic, snarling, fighting both pain and pull as she tried to force it away from Tommy through the veil, hearing his cries in the void. If she wasn't careful, it would pull her through instead, and that would be the death of all in the area.  
  
The veil separated the world and the void, and the void to the next world. The void was the nexus, the veil the pathways. Kristin, as Death, was the only one who could pull souls from one world into the veil, and push them into the void. It let them choose where they wanted to go afterwards, depending on what they'd been before. It was also the only place that could contain her aura, able to slowly kill all Life near her.  
  
But there was _no way back_ once all their lives were used up. To respawn after the first and second deaths was like turning around and walking back through the door you'd just come in from.  
  
After the third death, the door swung shut and locked, leaving a soul no other choice than to go through the veil into the void, and from the void to the next realm, but never the one they had just been in.  
  
That was where this black magic came in, the Book of Resurrection. It was more of a lockpick, wriggling into the veil to re-open a locked door, stealing away a soul from the void before it could travel away.  
  
It was magic to _specifically_ cheat Death. And it would.  
  
So she did the only thing she could do.  
  
Plucking a feather, she threw it into the void, pushing her will to the soul so protectively encircling Tommy. It would tie Wilbur's soul to Tommy's, but she didn't think he would mind.  
  
He would make a perfect Guardian Angel, even as far as he had fallen in life.  
  
 _"Go forth, my little fallen angel, avenge the death that should not be."_  
  
 _And she had to hope it would be enough._

* * *

Day Two

* * *

  
The SMP is in chaos.  
  
Jack Manifold was the one who shared the news first, hearing it from a broken Sam, and the man didn't know what to think.

Some people grieve, some deny, some simply don't give it any thought. Blame is thrown around, some celebrate, others fall into despair.  
  
A funeral is planned- there isn't a way to retrieve the body, still trapped in that prison with Dream, but Sam is working as fast as he can- and Ranboo is the one to gather the flowers.  
  
There's nobody left to pick them up anymore though.  
  
(He still tries to make it look nice, for Tommy.)

* * *

Day Three

* * *

Phil doesn't know where Techno is.  
  
He wishes he knew, but the man has been suspiciously absent since before Tommy's murder (and it _was_ murder, wasn't it...) and Philza honestly can't say where he's gone.  
  
He doesn't know how to grieve the son that was never technically his, people had simply assumed due to the child attaching himself to Wilbur and subsequently Phil and Techno as well.  
  
He really _had_ liked Tommy though, the kid was as wild as they came, and reminded him of his younger years. Ready to take on the world and show it who was boss, fearless and full of a want for adventure.  
  
He thinks he's lost all his tears to shed, from Wilbur, who had actually been his son, and from a long life of death in his wake. He was desensitized to it, for lack of a better word. Being married (technically) to Death herself, _would_ lead to that type of apathy wouldn't it.  
  
Phil leans on his shovel and looks up at the sky, and thinks of his immortal wife.  
  
She probably loved Tommy, knowing her, and how they had met so many lives ago. She was probably furious at how that sunny child had been killed, knowing her stance on early deaths.  
  
 _("I don't need to steal away life, darling, it comes to me. I can end life, yes, but I've never really needed to do it myself. Once when I was younger, I may have travelled worlds to collect souls and cause death, but eventually I stopped. They come to me if they're ready, I just pull them through and send them on their way to the next world. I've never met Life, but they usually take it from there." She had explained once, over a cup of tea._  
  
 _"...it is always a tragedy, when a child dies. Had I the power I once did as a younger Goddess, I may have cursed those who would cull the young for no reason than fun. Now I can only do my best to protect their souls." She murmured, eyelids fluttering dangerously as she clenched her fist so hard he could hear the bones pop.)_  
  
"If she doesn't curse Dream, I think I'd like to take a crack at it myself. Never worked with Curses before, I should see if Techno might like to try as well." Phil hummed, then wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued to build.

* * *

_ (Day ♾) _

* * *

_ (Life did not make the Book, despite what others may have thought. _   
  
_ That book was less of Life and more of Chaos, to Death and Life both. It threw out the careful balance of the hardcore SMP worlds, and of the casual SMP's that did not live on a limited span of lives. _   
  
_ He would wait, he supposed, and play his games during them. Perhaps the children would like a calmer world, meant more for fun than survival, and since there were so many hybrids already... why not a world where everyone was a hybrid? Abilities akin to mobs, not bound to many rules, but within reason. _   
  
_ Yes, that would do. Death might be pleased with that, considering her husband and her mortal children, adopted though they were. _   
  
_ Life would find a way, and make such a world for these traumatized younglings. Free and fresh, blank slates, and each soul could choose what it might like to be. _   
  
_ He set to work, calling his own Angel, a clever soul named Mana. _   
  
_ He would make this a surprise for Death's beloved souls. Hopefully, a welcome one.) _

* * *

Day Four

* * *

"I can bring Tommy back, you know." Dream sang cheerfully, sitting in his cell.  
  
Tubbo, who had come to demand answers, flinched. Tommy's body had been pulled out the day before, Sam barely restraining himself from attacking Dream in retribution, and was now... resting, at Puffy's place.  
  
 _("I'll clean him up before the funeral. He- I don't want anyone to see just how horribly he died. He would hate to be remembered like that." The sheep-woman had mumbled, tear tracks clearly staining the soft wool of her face._  
  
 _Tubbo had_ _acquiesced at the look on her face. He would have hated to remember Tommy looking so defeated, so small, and remembered how they were just kids fighting a war they never wanted.)_  
  
"If you execute me, I can't bring him home now can I? I have a deal for you, an easy little trade." The masked man purred to Sam, watching the way Tubbo trembled and Ranboo's eyes narrowed.

There was still blood on the crying obsidian, reddish brown kept liquid by the purple "tears" from the stone. It had dried over Dream's hands and clothes, flaking off with every movement. He hadn't even tried to wash it off, seemingly wearing it with _pride._ As if killing Tommy was some sort of sick _accomplishment._  
  
Tubbo exhaled, steeling his spine as he marched up to the bars and slammed a fist into them.  
  
"Name your price, green man."  
  
And under the mask...   
  
_:)_

* * *

Day Five

* * *

  
"This is a bad idea. I don't like it." Puffy whispered, watching the way Dream lazily scattered some sort of black salt in a circle, chalk outlining something on the floor.  
  
"There's nothing to be done, Puffy. Tubbo is president, I'm just the warden. If there's a way t-to bring-" He choked a little, shaking his head.  
  
"I understand. I do, Sam. I really do. But I just- This feels _wrong_ somehow. What if it fails? We'd have let him free for _nothing._ " Puffy exhaled, surprising herself with her own anger.  
  
"I don't think he would have agreed so easily if he didn't have confidence in what he was doing. He said it himself, I saw on the video during... he said he wanted to prove the Book worked. Like this is all a _game_ to him, or some kind of science project." Sam said quietly, eyes never leaving the back of the madman's head.  
  
" _If_ Tommy comes back, Sam, I hope you know that I don't plan on letting him of my sight. Healed or not, trauma won't fade that easy. If Dream lied, if Tommy doesn't return, I'm taking a life from both you _and_ Dream in reparation. I'm tired of being nice and doing _nothing_ while children _die around me_." Puffy murmured, stepping away and turning to leave.  
  
"I don't blame you, Puffy. I'd do the same." Sam said, eyes never leaving Dream.  
  
The preparations went smoothly, the masked man unusually calm and apparently sane, however briefly, setting up the ritual for the Book.  
  
"You're sure this will bring him back?" Tubbo was asking, eyes narrowed distrustfully at Dream.  
  
"Of course! Have I _ever_ lied to you? He'll come back all cured of what killed him." The prisoner crooned, pushing the bed into place.

It had been Tommy's last respawn point, sprinkled with a little dirt taken from the Original Spawn itself just in case.  
  
Ranboo shuffled nervously in the corner, absently writing down the interaction, adding onto what he learned from the past few days.  
  
 _-Dream made a deal_  
 _-Ritual??? Book Of Resurrection, brings back the dead_  
 _-Says he'll bring back Tommy if pardoned._  
 _-Tubbo granted a brief pardon if book works_  
 _-If fails... execution effective immediately_  
 _-..."cured of what killed him."_  
 _-why does that sound wrong?_  
 _-Dream said he never lies. That's a contradiction._  
 _-has he ever actually not said the truth or at least half of the truth???_  
 _-I saw the body, Tommy looked bad._ _Really_ _bad. Snapped neck, broken ribs, internal bleeding..._  
 _-The neck killed him before the bleeding, Phil mentioned._  
 _-..._  
- _Shit_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grief is... an interesting concept to me.


	2. A Bright Cold Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Freedom with no sure aim, or slummed in sludge, but no pure waste?  
>  Hobbies halt, still, when you give them a name, so does their merit live out of focus in the first place?  
> 'Cause that key place is the key we keep,  
> with one sheet stammering farther inside, _
> 
> _So lashing out with all those doubts cast aside, we democrats, at last, had died..._
> 
> _At that time, we saw a bright cold sky…"_

Respawning was often like a quick nap.  
  
One minute, you're dying from something or other, in horrible pain or numb awareness, and then you blink awake in a bed. Like nothing happened. Just a shiny pink scar from whatever the hell killed you and trauma that honestly fucked with you when you least expected it.  
  
A fourth respawn was _nothing_ like a quick nap. At least not for Wilbur.  
  
(Later, Phil would explain that life from Death was no easy feat, particularly becoming an Angel. Fallen _or_ Guardian, whichever angel type she made you. It was pure Chaos magic, something hardly used by Life or Death, so of course a fourth life wouldn't be an easy awakening.)  
  
Searing, white hot pain crackled from between his shoulder blades, and he would have screamed if his throat wasn't clogged with something. He was... in between somewhere. He vaguely remembered this place, and shook his head as the pain started fading.  
  
He coughed and spat out a glob of... blue? Gross. It tasted like saltwater and corn syrup, or saltwater taffy, whatever the fuck it was. A braided string chain, the same blue as whatever it was he coughed up, stretched from the pair of scorched lines in his chest and out into the white walls of... wherever he was.  
  
It faded to purple somewhere to the left of him, through the white wall, and he wondered how he didn't notice it wasn't actually a wall, but a _doorway._ He staggered to his feet, spitting out more of the blue, more purple than azure now, and stepped towards it.  
  
The first thing he saw, peering through the white film, was green. Leaning over something red and white and _blonde._ The chain to his soul, invisible to anyone but Wilbur himself, stretched all the way through into the world where his brother lay.  
  
It was like a freeze frame or something, neither Dream nor Tommy was moving, the flames on the candles didn't flicker, and Wilbur could see that Tommy's eyes were squeezed shut and pricked with tears.  
  
That was all the incentive he needed.  
  
~~( _"I'm not surprised. New Guardian Angels are always highly protective at first, I know I was. I'm honestly impressed you didn't try to chase us all out those first few nights Tommy was healing. You must have been crazy on edge, Will. I would have been." Phil laughed quietly, shaking his head._ ~~  
  
~~_He thought for a moment._ ~~  
  
~~_"Actually... I think I was, once. That was a long time ago, and I've lived a lot of lives since then. I'm proud of you."_ )~~  
  
He launched himself out of the veil, his new wings propelling him through the Doorway faster than any firework elytra combo could possibly manage.  
  
His fist met Dream's face within mere seconds, the world silent aside from the green madman's shriek of surprise and the _thud_ from where Wilbur's momentum slammed them both into the wall.  
  
" _STAY AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!"_ He bellows, pulling his fist back to smash it into that stupid fucking mask.

It makes a satisfying _crick-crick-crack_ as it shatters under the blow, falling to pieces around the man's face, shocked green eyes wide and for once, not glinting with insanity.  
  
Dream grunts in pain, shards slicing into his skin, hands flying up to grab Wilbur's wrists in an attempt to stop him.  
  
There _was_ no stopping him.  
  
Wilbur ripped his hands free of the bastard's grip, angrily pounding his knuckles back into Dream's face, ignoring the mask shards embedding themselves into both men's flesh.  
  
Dream screeched and bucked, now recognizing the threat after the initial stun, trying to throw Wibur off.  
  
"You will _never_ touch Tommy _again!_ " Wilbur roared, wings beating at the air in his rage.  
  
He heard people behind him, and instinctively whipped his head around to check on Tommy.  
  
Dream took a chance, throwing a punch at Wilbur's shoulder to try and dislodge the grip he had Dream's upper left arm.  
  
Wilbur hissed, not unlike a furious swan, and swatted away the hand after he tried for a second punch.  
  
Dream kicked, Wilbur having him half pinned to the wall and half to the floor, an awkward position that was unfavorable in a fight for the pinned one.  
  
"GET _OFF_ OF ME!" The prisoner screamed, flailing, strength given by rage now, and panic.  
  
Wilbur's breath exploded out in a rush as Dream got a lucky kick against his ribcage, he was almost thrown off, but hands caught him from behind.  
  
Sam, hissing and smoking, a first for Wilbur to see, dealt out his own heavy handed blow to Dream's face.  
  
" _You have no idea how badly you've fucked up. The deal is off."_ The Creeper-hybrid snarled, wrestling the man back down.  
  
Dream snarled back, clawing at everything in reach, nails ragged from his time in that cell.  
  
" _Then I'll kill him as many times as it takes!_ I won't stay in that prison, I'll break out and I'll kill him and bring him back over and over until he's mine again!" Dream spat, eyes glinting red with madness.

Something shattered in Wilbur at the proclaimation, the rage he felt now _nothing_ like what he'd been feeling during his exile, his death, his _entire life._  
  
With a feral scream, Wilbur lunged forth, wrapped his hands around Dream's neck, and _squeez_ _ed._  
  
There was a sickening _s_ _nap,_ and Dream choked, gurgling as blood began trickling out of his mouth. He struggled, clawing at the hands around his throat, but even that was getting increasingly weaker, until it stopped completely.  
  
The admin slumped, eyes going glassy, as Wilbur stepped back, chest heaving. It took him a minute, but Dream didn't disappear in a puff of smoke like he would have if he was respawning.  
  
He had no time to question it, Tommy needed protection.  
  
He spun on his heel- Sam could deal with Dream now- and marched over to his younger brother. He gently nudged Tubbo, who looked far too fragile and younger than he remembered him being, aside and ran his hands through Tommy's hair.  
  
"It's okay, Toms, I've got you. I'm here, like I promised. He can't hurt you anymore." Wilbur murmured, the strange limbs on his back now a heavy presence.  
  
Tommy's eyes fill with tears, and Wilbur is struck by the same sick realization that he was only _16_. Wilbur had stuck a teenager in a war and traumatized him horribly, causing some, if not all, his deaths indirectly and not even stopping to ask if Tommy was even _okay_.  
  
The kid's breath hitches and he throws himself into Wilbur's arms, sobbing. Absently, Wilbur can smell the remnants of ghast tears and glistening melons from the potions Tubbo (and Ranboo) had used on Tommy, curing him of the threats to his life. It wouldn't replace the lost blood, the magic needed to work on the torn ligaments and broken bones first, so it was no wonder the poor kid was fighting to stay awake.  
  
Wilbur had _no idea_ how he knew what Tommy was feeling, but he tucked his heavy new wings around his brother and hummed, trying to remember how Cat went. It was one of Tommy's favorites, he knew, but they hadn't heard it in years now.  
  
It took him a while to fold his wings back and away, Tommy fully passed out, but he had hardly paid attention to his surroundings during his overprotective haze.  
  
The stupid wings weren't really heavy, but they were still new weight and bone and muscle from nothing. Growing pains for something entirely new, not from a normal human's usual growth pattern. He was mostly controlling them on instinct, something he thanked Kristin for mentally, but conscious control was something he needed to learn.  
  
He folded them back, shuffling and fluffing them to sit better on his back. They would be weak at first, and get stronger with practice, but for now he needed to get used to _having_ them first.  
  
"Wilbur? That- You're really Wilbur, yeah? Where's Ghostbur?" Ranboo's voice was soft and hesitant, at the edge of the bed.

"I don't know. Need Tommy outta here." Wilbur muttered, arms hefting his charge up and stumbling away.  
  
The initial rush of adrenaline was gone, and only now was Wilbur realizing just how exhausting and painful having a body that just sprouted wings was. Not to mention the displacement in being solid again, or how sluggish time felt. He had been in the void for a long time, and Ghostbur had really just been projecting his dreaming self onto the world.  
  
Now he was alive again, and his mind needed to catch up, but the new instincts that came with being an Angel took its toll. It left him in a heightened state of confusion, dazed and not quite listening to logic.  
  
"Woah, easy there Wilbur." Sam grunted, catching the swaying Angel.  
  
"Tommy's okay, right? He's not gonna die again?" Tubbo asked, hovering behind as Ranboo stepped in to offer a hand.  
  
"The potions worked, Tubbo, but I don't know about his mental state. We won't know until he wakes up, but it's probably a good idea to get out of here. We can get Tommy to rest at the hotel." The ender-hybrid said worriedly, Sam taking the lead with Wilbur.  
  
It wasn't too hard to get Wilbur to the hotel, but he _refused_ to let anyone else carry Tommy. When suggested he sleep in the next room, he looked as though somebody had offered to murder his firstborn.  
  
Instead, he was left to hover anxiously over Tommy as the kid slept for several days, talking to Phil, and even Techno once the piglin hybrid caught word, hardly sleeping or even eating much.  
  
After Tommy's initial freakout, the kid slept some more, and Phil dropped in a few moments after the teen fell asleep again.  
  
"I brought you some food. You're mortal now, Will, you gotta eat." The elder Angel said, frowning as he shoved a plate with a sandwich into his son's hands.  
  
"Not-" Wilbur started, cut off by the grumble in his stomach. He seemed surprised, patting at it in confusion.  
  
"Right. Not a ghost anymore." He muttered, then picked up the sandwich and took a bite.  
  
He was hungrier than he'd first thought, because he devoured it and the three apples Phil had also brought in.  
  
"It takes a bit to get used to." Phil said, slightly amused.  
  
"Considering the whole ghost thing, plus the uncountable months in the void? Yeah. Being hungry again is... grounding." His feathers fluffed slightly, pondering the new mortality he'd gotten back.  
  
"Later, I'll teach you how to use those. Can't really use mine anymore, but I can guide you and give you tips and tricks I've learned. It's _very_ different from elytra." Phil warned lightly, gesturing to Wilbur's new wings.  
  
"Yeah, later. When Tommy's better. I was thinking of taking him across the ocean, Phil. Somewhere away from all... this." Wilbur waved his hand around them vaguely.  
  
"You just gestured to everything." Phil said, and Wilbur snorted at the reference.  
  
"Yep, everything. L'manberg, my old unfinished symphony... now it's just a broken tune with the instruments scattered and discordant, and no conductor to lead them. It's not even a _country_ anymore, Phil. It's just a wreck of ruins." Wilbur shook his head, recalling Ghostbur's memories.  
  
"I don't fuckin' blame you, mate. I'd do the same if Techno wasn't so focused on revenge. No matter where we go, we get found. Maybe it's time to go somewhere nobody would actually think we'd go." Phil said, tilting his own head in acknowledgement.  
  
"Well, you'd be welcome anytime." Wilbur offered his father a tired smile.  
  
"You should stay for a few days at least, anyways. Get supplies, get Tommy stable, then go. I can teach you what I know before you leave, towing a boat with wings is the quickest way across." Phil added, getting to his feet.  
  
He gave Tommy's hair a fond ruffle, and turned to leave.  
  
"Oh, and Will?"  
  
"Yeah Dad?"  
  
"I'm glad you're back."  
  
(Death _beams_ at her husband and children, and excitedly shakes the terrified Mexican watching with her while the drunkard cackles back at the table. She can't wait to see them _heal_.  
  
She's more excited that she has the Book of Resurrection in her veil now, stolen from that madman. Nobody said she _couldn't_ reach into the living realm, when the place was devoid of life anyways. Not even to happily steal a cursed book.)  
  
~~_(Elsewhere, a time traveller sighs in relief.)_~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said I wanted a feral Wilbur, I meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> What canon revival..? :3
> 
> This is fully AU territory now folks, I'm pulling out all the stops. I love writing wings, so expect quite a bit of wing lore in the next one depending on when I finish it.  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (Canon can fight me in a subway parking lot at 4am, I will absolutely bring a gun to a swordfight and win with an RKO baseball bat out of left field, try me.)


End file.
